


Darkness of Isolation

by Bastet5



Series: The Wild Hunt [5]
Category: FBI: Most Wanted (TV 2020)
Genre: Claustrophobia, Gen, Isolation, Panic Attacks, Rescue Missions, Team as Family, Team to the rescue, Trigger Warnings, badthingshappenbingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bastet5/pseuds/Bastet5
Summary: December 2017Kateri always joked, only half-seriously, that she was jinxed when she was split up from her usual partner and partnered with one of her other teammates while on a hunt.Here is one of the reasons why.In other words, the explanation of the first half of the December SNAFU of 2017.
Relationships: Clinton Skye & Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Wild Hunt [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678864
Comments: 21
Kudos: 13





	1. Opening: Danger Strikes

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Main Character is claustrophobic and suffers a panic attack after being attacked and imprisoned in a small room.

It was not that Kateri truly minded being partnered with one of her other team mates for an assignment—she liked them all, though … sometimes to greater or lesser extents depending on the day—but she was so used to being partnered with Clinton that it took a little adjusting to be paired with someone else.

The team had its own shorthand after working together for years with few to no changes in personal, and Clinton and Kateri had their own shorthand, an ease in anticipating each other’s moves, an ability to read each other and to have basic conversations without words. They were both the quiet ones on the team. Kateri could often be found at her partner’s shoulder, or just half hidden by him, where his larger bulk would draw attention off of her, leaving her to study a scene, a person, etc. without interruption.

Kateri getting paired with one of her other teammates was the exception that proved the rule concerning her usual partnership with Clinton. Kenny was the usual alternative choice, especially when Kateri had contacts to visit and needed a little muscle. Hana usually had her computers to attend to, and Barnes usually went with Jess, her skill at ‘hand-holding’ making up for where Jess sometimes lacked in those regards. Kateri liked Kenny. He was big and funny and a whiz at his job, and despite his size and temper, he never frightened her even when he was in a mood.

Despite this, one morning in early December, Kateri could not help but feel a little miffed when she and Kenny were paired off to go interview a POI with connections to their fugitive. They were in up-state New York, chasing a man named Nate May, wanted for triple homicide and armed robbery. The POI, Samuel Carter, was a former teammate of May from his time in the army, who lived in an isolated area out in the country.

Morning had come at last, after a long night’s work with only a few hours of sleep. The temperature was hovering at around 10 degrees and was not likely to rise much, if at all, throughout the day. There was a thick cloud cover with a low hanging, freezing fog, turning the forest scenery, which Kateri usually would have enjoyed, into an eerie scene that seemed straight out of a creepy movie.

Kateri stared quietly out the window as Kenny drove, mindlessly but automatically cataloging the passing scenery and turns. For some reason she felt a hint of niggling unease. Picking up on her mood, Kenny had quieted his usual chatter and had turned on the radio, instead. Her unease was not making the car ride any more pleasant. Kateri was quite claustrophobic, and anything smaller than a moving elevator was prone to causing panic attacks. Cars usually didn’t bother her. She knew she could get out of them when necessary, but today she could feel the barest vestiges of panic trying to dig its claw into her mind. There was just the slightest shake to her hands, and she had had to wipe her palms on her jeans multiple times in the last ten minutes, and her heartrate was elevated, as if she had just hopped off the treadmill after a long run.

“You okay?” Kenny asked, looking over at her. Despite his hulking demeanor and his occasional fits of temper, he was surprisingly perceptive of other people’s moods. He also knew Kateri was claustrophobic.

Kateri shrugged, “I’ll be glad to get out of this car, but except for that I’m peachy.”

“Just a few more minutes, and we’ll be there.”

The few minutes, in Kateri’s mind, dragged on long enough to seem more like ten or fifteen minutes, but finally Kenny turned the jeep onto a long driveway that led further into the trees off the already tree-lined winding street. The house was set in a large clearing about 50 yards back from the road. It looked like a normal house that a normal family would live in, and the driveway was empty, though there was a separate garage.

Kenny stopped their car, and the two FBI agents got out, warily scanning the surrounding area for movement. They quickly checked the garage and found it empty, save for a good-sized ATV.

Everything started to go wrong when they got to the house. The living room, at least, was deserted, from what they could see through the porch window, and there was no response to Kenny banging energetically on the door or yelling through the door. Finally, Kateri checked the knob on an instinct. Beneath her hand, it turned. She glanced up at Kenny, surprise in her eyes, and they both immediately drew their guns. Kateri turned the knob and carefully pushed the door open. She entered first, clearing the entrance way with quick, practiced movements, Kenny on her six.

The ground floor was large, forcing Kenny and Kateri to split up to clear the house. As far as they knew, there was no basement, and there was no upper level, either.

Kateri had almost finished clearing her end of the house, when the worst happened.

Out of nowhere, a hand clamping down over her nose and mouth

No chance to take a full breath first

A faint pin-prick in her neck

The panic-inducing sensation of her chest tightening for lack of air

An arm like a bar of iron pinning her arms to her chest

Her Glock dropping from suddenly nerveless fingers

Limbs that no longer responded fully to her commands

_FIGHT. FIGHT!_ Kateri’s brain was screaming at her, and she tried to scream but could get out nothing around the hand over her mouth.

Darkness starting to encroach on the edge of her vision.

Utter panic creeping over her, the exact wrong response in that situation

_Kenny, HELP!! Notice. Please, notice!_ Her brain was tragically clear, even as her body was starting to fail her. She tried to fight back, but disjointed flailing was about as far as she got, as she fell prey to whatever drug her attacker had injected her with.

_Why are there stars?_

All went dark, and Kateri slumped bonelessly against her assailant.

* * *

Consciousness returned slowly, crawling painfully back over her in disjointed fragments joined by a rush of disorientating sensations.

The throbbing ache of her hands and feet, bound in unnatural positions

The itch of rope and the sting of rope burns

Tightness in her chest and a floaty feeling in her head

A feeling of nausea like after eating bad sushi

Kateri lay still for a long time on the floor after clawing her way back to consciousness. Where she was, she didn’t know. How much time had passed, she didn’t know either. She knew her hands were tightly bound behind her back, and her legs were bound as well. Her eyes were blindfolder, but there was, thankfully, no bag over her head, which would be bad if she had to puke.

Kateri could feel the beginning of an oncoming panic attack clawing at her mind and body, the feeling like spiders crawling across her skin. Her claustrophobia did not appreciate the restraints or the blindfold, and she was almost glad she couldn’t see. If she were locked in a small room, the day was just going to get even worse.

A few shivers wracked her frame, making her suddenly realize her coat was missing, though the rest of her clothing seemed untouched. The thought of what could have happened while she was unconscious made her suddenly feel even sicker.

Her head was muzzy, but she tried to make herself focus. _Calm down! Calm down!_ She ordered herself. _You’re in a pinch and by yourself. Now is not a good time for a panic attack_.

Kateri was frightened, very frightened, and a host of questions were bombarding her mind. _Where am I? What happened? How much time has passed? Is Kenny hurt? Did whoever me take him? Do the others know I’m missing? Are they looking for me?_ She realized that, without a gag, she could try to shout for help, but depending on where she was and who was nearby, shouting could be next to useless or could, worse, draw her attacker’s attention back to her.

She wanted to cry, be sick, and go home, not necessarily in that order. She wanted her teammates to find her. She wanted to get out of the ropes, to stop feeling like the walls were going to close in on her, like she was trapped and there was no way out, like no one was going to find her.

Kateri tried to rouse herself enough to move, but even small movements made the rolling of her stomach flare up until she began to retch, her stomach muscles and throat heaving, until all she was coughing up was bile. Somehow she managed to shift back a few feet, until her back ran up against a wall, so she had some relief from the smell of her own sick.

 _I just want to go home_.

A few tears began to trickle from her eyes. Vomiting had made the pounding in her head even worse and, in restraints, had served to make every muscle in her body ache, and the spasms and her move backwards had only increased the awkward position in which her limbs were.

Her shivering was slowly increasing, and Kateri finally realized through the fuzziness in her head and the trouble focusing on anything except her panic that the ache in the feet and hands was not just from being restrained. It was the ache of cold that was setting in, too. Who knew where she was—save that she was not outside—and without a coat, exposure was going to become a problem.

_I’m going to freeze to death in a small room while trussed up like a chicken and drugged. Can this day get any worse?_

Her chest tightened, and her tears increased, her burgeoning panic attack escalating into a full-blown panic attack. The sounds of her sobs and gasping breaths seemed loud in the confined space.

_I just want to go home_.

_Please, guys, come find me._

_Please, Kenny, be alright._

_I just want to go home._

_GET ME OUT OF HERE._

_PLEASE SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE._

She was already stuck in the midst of a panic attack, and then the flashback started.

Kateri wasn’t in her thirties, but a scared little ten-year-old girl.

She wasn’t trussed up like a chicken in a small room, but trapped inside a wooden chest.

It wasn’t her own sick she smelled, but the overpowering scent of cedar, which she still couldn’t stand to that very day.

Instead of the noise of her sobs and own gasping breaths, all she could hear were her own screams, cries to be let out—pleading that she was scared of the dark, scared of the chest which was too much like a coffin for an orphan—and the mocking voice of her foster-brother and tormenter.

It was a long time before she came back to herself. Her headache had eased. Her chest wasn’t so tight, and Kateri realized she had lost time. That happened periodically during panic attacks. In this case, she wondered if she had hyperventilated herself into a fainting spell.

The sense of cold had grown worse.

When her thoughts had cleared a little more, Kateri began to take catalog of herself, her injuries, and what she thought she might still have supply-wise. She focused wholly on organizing her thoughts into neat lists, anything to keep her mind occupied and off her situation.

  * Self 
    * Head, still pounding but better
    * Stomach, still rolling but a tiny bit better
    * Breathing, easier
    * Chest tightness, gone
    * Muscle tremors, only shivers
  * Injuries 
    * _None, I think, except for the rope burns on my wrists_.
    * _And being drugged ... not technically an injury, is it?_
  * Supplies 
    * Coat, gone. Rest of clothing intact. _Thank God_.
    * Cross necklace, gone. _Oh, come on. You took that of all things?_
    * Hair pins, gone. _Could have been useful if I could have even gotten to them._
    * Cellphone, gone. _Too much to hope for_.
    * Backup gun gone, obviously. _Whoever jumped me would been an utter moron to have left it_.
    * Main knife, gone, obviously. _Ditto for sharp-pointy things._
    * Pockets, rifled, but not empty. _I think my gauze might be still there or possibly my bandana. I’m going to need something for my wrists if I can get out of these ropes._
    * Watch, also missing



She started cataloging at the top of her head and worked her way methodically down to her feet. When she got to boots, she felt her brain grind to a momentary, screeching halt, when she felt a surprising weight still hidden in her right boot. _You’ve got to be kiddin’ me. I’ve still got my boot knife_. _He didn’t do such a good job of looking after all._

_If I can get these ropes off my hands, I can free my legs._

_Wait …. Could I contort enough to get my knife first?_

_Uh, probly not._

_Might end up doing more damage to yourself with the knife than to the ropes._

Trying to get the ropes off her hands was a purpose, one which would distract Kateri from her claustrophobia, her situation, and Kenny’s unknown fate. It was taking dedicated focus not to let her mind run way with her, not to let herself imagine Kenny lying injured or dead in that house. _Please be okay, Kenny._ She begged internally. She wasn’t sure she would figure herself otherwise.

Twisting and turning her wrists, she fiddled and picked and worried the ropes, trying to map out the knot with her fingers. The abrasions from the rope deepened until sticky blood ran down her wrists, coating her fingers making them more slippery and warmer both.


	2. Ending: Rescue

How ever much she worked at the ropes, Kateri could not get free, even with her blood acting as a lubricant, and there was simply not enough slack to just pull herself free. Finally, she was forced to admit defeat and try to find the most comfortable position as possible to wait.

Wait for what remained to be seen. She prayed her teammates would find her soon, before exposure took its toll—she was already so very cold—or her kidnapper returned. She was not afraid to die, but she would much rather go down fighting or at least face death on her feet, not trussed up like a chicken.

The cold began to grow worse, and her shivers grew worse, too, until they wracked her body and made her feel like she had the palsy. Her teeth chattered so much she hoped that she would not crack a tooth.

 _Please come find me, guys. Please be alright, Kenny._ Those two thoughts ran through her mind like a refrain, as drowsiness set in and trying to stay awake grew progressively harder and harder.

Eventually, the urge to sleep became overpowering, and she fell into a doze. Her dreams were dark, full of horrors and shadowed figures. When some hours later noises outside her prison began to rouse her, the line between dreams and reality became blurred, and she shrunk back, still lost in her dream world, forgetting that her back was already, literally, up against a wall.

The touch of two fingers on the pulse point of her neck jolted her to full awakening, and she tried to draw back with a shriek, which she suddenly realized came from her own throat.

Gentle hands caught her shoulders and then moved to her face. Her partner’s voice—Clinton’s voice—filled her ears, his words a soothing refrain, “I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you. You’re alright. You’re safe now. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

The blindfold was removed, and finally she could see where she was—a small room, like a storage room or a tack room in a barn. Through the open door she could see that it was pitch dark. Her partner was kneeling just in front of her, the look on his face one of utter, heart-felt relief.

Clinton put one hand to his ear, keeping the other on her shoulder, grounding her, “I’ve got Kateri. She’s alive.”

Her partner lifted her far enough out from the wall—she was so stiff and cold that she could barely move on her own—so he could draw his knife and cut the ropes and duct tape binding her wrists and ankles. When he drew her into a tight but gentle hug, Kateri burst into tears. One arm wrapped around her waist and the other hand on the back of her neck, he rocked her as if she was his daughter and not his partner. “I’ve got you. You’re okay. You’re okay. Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” Kateri replied when she got enough control over her emotions to be able to speak. “Is Kenny okay?” She asked frantically through chattering teeth.

“Crosby’s fine,” Clinton replied, “Just worried sick about you. He’s been beating himself up all day about what happened.”

“Not his fault. I got jumped.”

Hana’s voice suddenly appeared from the direction of the doorway, her body hidden from Kateri’s sight by her partner’s body. “EMS is in the drive, but they can’t get the gurney all the way over here. Ground’s too bad.”

Surprised by the sudden voice, Kateri flinched violently in Clinton’s arms, and he tightened his hold enough to ground her but not so much that it would trigger her claustrophobia. He was the resident expert at “Kat Whispering,” as Kenny had termed it, i.e., helping her when she occasionally had panic attacks in the jet or on the job. He knew how to help her during the worst of panic attacks (coupled with the occasional flashbacks), and though she had once decried the usefulness of working with a team, she would no longer give up her team, her partner for the world. Clinton was her partner, her best friend, and—she had never told him this—the closest thing she had had to a father in over twenty years.

“Thanks, Hana,” Clinton replied, “Can you walk, kid?” His voice was low and gentle.

Kateri shook her head.

“How far to the drive, Hana?”

Footsteps, a long pause, and then Hana replied, “About 40 yards-ish.”

Kateri had guessed what her partner was about to do when he asked Hana that question, and she was right. Clinton released her from the hug, long enough to shift his grip so that one arm was around her back and the other under her knees. With a grunt of effort, he lifted her from the ground, cradling her in his arms, and she instinctively wrapped one arm around his neck to make the job easier. The movements made her head start pounding again, and she closed her eyes and put her head down on his shoulder.

The first person Kateri heard once they got outside was Kenny, and she had never been so glad to hear his voice in all her life.

“The house is clear. How is she?”

Kateri dragged her eyes open—she felt so tired … and cold—and turned her head enough to see Kenny. “I’m alright,” she whispered around chattering teeth before her partner could answer for her.

“Sure you are,” Kenny replied, a stricken look in his eyes, falling into line beside Clinton and touching her shoulder gently, “I’m so sorry, Kat.”

“Not your fault. I got jumped. Never even had chance to scream.”

Compared to the darkness of the shed/barn/room/place, especially under the blindfold, the lights of the ambulance were almost overpoweringly bright, and Kateri slammed her eyes shut, as the lights seared into her brain. The pain drew a low moan from her lips. Her partner set her down lightly, and she heard him giving an update to the paramedics. The sudden realization that she would have to ride to the hospital in an ambulance—a small enclosed box—nearly sent her in the throes of another panic attack, and she distantly heard one of the paramedics—a woman—trying to get her to calm down.

“She’s extremely claustrophobic,” Kateri heard Clinton snap, “And just got freed from being locked in a tack room.”

To one of the others, he said, “I’m going to the hospital with her. Tell Jess.”

The sound of the sirens was thankfully somewhat muffled inside as they got underway, and Kateri cautiously opened her eyes to slits so that, hopefully, she could still see what was going on without the light overwhelming her. A female paramedic was sitting beside her, preparing to start an IV, which meant that the hand on her shoulder was from Clinton at her head. Kateri let her eyes drift closed again. She was so tired, but the shivers that wracked her body kept her from sleeping.

“Kateri,” it was Clinton’s voice, and the hand on her shoulder squeezed gently just enough to get her attention, “The paramedic wants to know if anything hurts.” _I must have zoned out_.

She dragged her eyes open again and met the eyes of the paramedic, who having finished the IV— _I never felt the pinch_ —was starting to systematically check her over for injuries. She thought for a moment, “I’m cold and stiff and sore. My wrists hurt,”—she refused to look at them, knowing they were almost certainly a mess after her attempts to free herself from the ropes—“and my head a little bit, too, but nothin’s terrible.”

“Well,” the paramedic replied, “Your body temperature is just above 92 degrees, so you’re mildly hypothermic. I’ve started you on warm saline, and I’ll get you a blanket in a few minutes. Your partner saw a needle mark on your neck. Do you have any idea what you might have been drugged with?”

“Ketamine, probably,” Kateri replied, “Took me down right quick.” Her eyes drifted shut again.

Clinton tapped her cheek gently, “I need you to stay awake, kid.” He had apparently been delegated to getting responses out of her when necessary, as she always responded better to voices she knew when she was hurt.

“Okay,” she responded and dragged her eyes open, “Is it still Saturday?”

“For another 15 minutes or so.” _I was missing for over 12 hours_.

“You get him yet?” Kateri asked, thinking of the fugitive they had been tasked to catch. Finishing her examination, the paramedic pulled a blanket from one of the storage shelves and carefully tucked it around her patient and then pulled out gauze to start wrapping Kateri’s wrists.

“May, not yet,” her partner replied, a strange note to his voice, “Another team got reassigned to deal with him, when you got taken. We got Carter late this afternoon.”

 _Was Carter the one who took me?_ Kateri muzzily wondered. She knew the feeling of muzzyheadedness was due to the hypothermia. _What took you so long to find me?_

“There were … some implications…” Clinton began, before his voice failed him for one of the rare times in his life.

“That I was dead?”

“Or worse.”

Kateri internally gulped at that. She could make some educated guesses at what Carter had implied and preferred not to think of it at all. She reached up her right arm, which did not have the IV in it and had already been bandaged, and she felt Clinton take her hand gently for a moment and squeeze it. His words helped explain why he was treating her if she were made of spun glass. She couldn’t imagine what the team had gone through that day.

It was a long ride to the hospital. Apparently where ever Carter had stashed her was some distance from habitation. When they arrived, she and Clinton were separated—which was somewhat nerve-wracking considering her horrible mess of a day—and there was a succession of doctors, rooms, and tests, exhausting what little strength Kateri had left. Eventually, she was settled in a room, the doctor starting that she would probably be able to released later that day once her body temperature had risen back to normal levels and they were sure the drugs were fully out of her system.

The blankets were warm; the lights were low; and the bed was soft and comforting after the hardness of the shed floor, and soon Kateri fell asleep, the steady sound of the heart monitor ringing in her ears. When she awoke several hours later, a female nurse with a nice smile had come in to check on her, and Kenny was sitting sprawled in a chair by her bed, his hands crossed over his stomach and his chin sunk all the way to his chest. He was snoring like a chainsaw, which usually drove Kateri crazy if they ended up in the same hotel room and he fell asleep first, but for one night she appreciated the familiar nose. The nurse gave her a thumbs up and readjusted the blankets and then departed as quietly as she had come, and Kateri soon drifted off again into a dreamless sleep.

Dim light was filtering in through the drawn curtains when she awoke for the second time. The clock on the wall said it was almost 8am. She was alone in the room, and Kateri took a minute to consider how she felt.

  * (1) The idea of being in a car no longer felt panic-inducing.
  * (2) She was finally warm again and no longer felt like she had fallen asleep in a walk-in freezer.
  * (3) Her hands and feet no longer felt like icy, achy, near useless lumps.



She finally glanced down at her wrists. They were wrapped neatly in gauze, and she could move her fingers without pain. That could also be due to pain meds,

Nothing was blue, black, or otherwise multi-colored, except for the gauze wrapped around her palms and a couple of her fingers. Those had a tiny spot or two of blood.

  * (4) Her head no longer felt like she had a hangover, and her thoughts were no longer muddled.
  * (5) However, she still felt tired, despite the sleep, and somewhat weak. Her body had been through an ordeal, and those things were to be expected, she concluded.



_Progress. Definitely progress. Now, when can I get out of here?_

Kateri did not try to move yet but started to look around a little and quickly caught sight of her partner out in the hall, his back to the door, talking on his cellphone. A doctor entered before Clinton returned. After a quick examination, the doctor informed her that she would be released as soon as she had eaten breakfast and the discharge paperwork had been completed. Breakfast was plain, but with Clinton updating her on the case, she didn’t care much or taste much of what she was eating. Soon after she had finished eating, her partner went off to check on the paperwork, just after Barnes arrived carrying a familiar duffle.

“I come bearing real clothes,” she announced as she entered the room.

“Hurray,” Kateri replied, sitting up. The only thing she despised more about hospitals than being in one was being in hospital clothes. They were scratchy and uncomfortable and not anywhere near warm enough.

“How are you feeling?” Barnes set the duffle down on the end of the bed, as soon as Kateri had pulled her feet away.

“Better. Less like I’m an icicle and spent the day trussed up like a chicken.”

“That’s good,” Barnes replied with a smile, “You gave us all quite a scare.”

“I gave myself a scare … and a panic attack. That was … not … a good day.”

Barnes snorted and stopped pulling out clothes long enough to quickly squeeze Kateri’s shoulder, “If you need to talk, Kat, we’re all happy to listen.”

“Thanks.”

Dressed in an extra flannel shirt and pair of cargo pants and ensconced within a fuzzy jacket, Kateri was finally released about 10am. Much to her discomfiture and embarrassment, she had to suffer the indignity of being wheeled outside to the waiting cars in a wheel chair. All of her team was waiting there, except for Barnes who had helped her dress and then had appointed herself wheelchair-pusher. There were hugs and backslaps all around, all her teammates relieved to see Kateri safe and in one piece and feeling well enough to complain about the wheelchair.

Her partner helped her get settled in their car, and then they were finally on their way home.

_After today I’m just glad to be able to go home._

_I wonder how long it will be before Clinton lets me out of sight in the field again._

_I don’t think I’ll be getting re-partnered anytime soon._

 _I should talk to Kenny soon, make sure he stops beating himself up. Wasn’t his fault_.

With these and other thoughts circulating in her mind, Kateri eventually fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: An Alternate Ending.
> 
> Don't worry: no one was further harmed in the making of this alternate ending.


	3. Alt. Ending: Kateri Frees Herself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to go up yesterday. Ooops. My bad.

Progress was slow, worryingly, frustratingly, horrifically slow, but Kateri slowly did make progress, picking and worrying and pulling at the ropes and knot until slowly it began to loosen. Without her watch, Kateri had no way of telling how long it took her to free herself. She would have estimated that at least two or three brutally long hours had passed, hours that brought her to tears multiple times, both from pain and from sheer frustration and fear.

Finally, finally, Kateri felt the ropes gives, and she shook them off and pulled off the blindfold. With practiced efficiency, dulled by pain and cold, she took stock of herself and her situation. She was locked in some sort of small empty room that looked like it was once a shed or the tack room of a barn. The barest hints of fading light filtered in through cracks in the walls and around the door, meaning that she had missing for probably at least 12 hours.

Kateri then looked down at her wrists and nearly vomited again, swallowing hard several times to keep the remaining contents of her stomach, if there were any, in her stomach. Hours of fighting with the ropes to free herself had left her wrists, hands, and lower arms stained with blood, and the rope burns on her wrists made them look they had been through a meat grinder. _I think the cold is the only reason it doesn’t hurt too much right now._ Her fingers were stiff with cold, which had made it all the more difficult to free herself from the ropes.

With the hand that still had the most feeling, Kateri fished around in her pockets for anything that had not been rifled through and stolen. She emerged with one bandana and one roll of gauze. She ripped open the gauze wrapping with her teeth, and between her teeth and the other hand, she managed to wrap both wrists semi-well, one with gauze and the other with the bandana.

Even that little activity made her head spin and her heart pound, and she had to stop and rest for several minutes before she could think of doing anything else. _Between whatever drugs are left in my system, dehydration from puking (probably), blood loss, no food for hours, and exposure, I’m in a bit of pickle._

When the world stopped spinning, Kateri started trying to rub a little feeling back into fingers and then fished her boot knife out of her boot and slit the duct tape that bound her ankles together. Somehow, she managed to not cut herself in the process.

Climbing to her feet was the next task Kateri gave herself. Giving herself small tasks and then focusing on accomplishing them one at a time helped her when she was struggling and hurting to not get bogged down by how terrible she was feeling. Getting to her feet proved to be a battle all its own, and she fell several times before she finally stood, wavering like a new born foal, braced with one hand against the wall. The world spun sickeningly for the umpteenth time, and Kateri felt like she was standing on a boat in a storm. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the world to stop spinning and her stomach to stop rolling.

A few tears trickled down her cheeks.

_Please come find me, guys. Please be alright, Kenny_.

After being recruited to the Fugitive Task Force after several years doing undercover work, she had grown used to working with a team and always having a team at her back. Having to rely on only herself for the moment was unpleasant to say the least. _Even if Kenny is hurt, you’ve been gone long enough that the others’ll know something’s up. They’ll be looking for you._ Finally, the world steadied enough for her to cross her small prison on shaky feet. A little force applied to the door, and it opened, and nearly stumbling and falling, she was free.

Her prison was a tack room after all, considering by the empty stalls that she emerged by. The smell of age and decay and the decrepit condition of the building indicated that the barn had not been in use in quite some time. There was no sign of her stuff or other rooms where her stuff might be.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

Kateri reached the great doors of the barn, which stood half-open, decaying in their slides. From the entrance, she could see a dark house some distance away. If there was a car there, she couldn’t see. The moon had risen, and the air was brisk, windy, and extremely cold.

_Do I dare try the house? No. I couldn’t fight a rabbit right now. I run into the guy who jumped me, I’ll end up right back in that room or worse._

_Time to start walking, I guess. Find a road. Find someone who looks like he/she couldn’t be whoever jumped me. Find a phone._

Kateri ducked her chin down into the collar of the fleece jacket she had had on under her coat, gently tucked her injured wrists into her pockets— _my gloves are gone, too_ —and started walking. Her chosen path paralleled the driveway but was deep enough into the trees that the shadows would hide her somewhat.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

Everything in Kateri’s mind narrowed to that one instruction: keep putting one foot in front of the other. The longer she kept moving, the better chance she had of finding help. The longer she kept going, the farther she was from her prison. The longer she kept moving, the longer she could keep herself somewhat warmer.

Kateri had no idea how long it took to her to get from the barn to the end of the driveway, but it was a ridiculously long time, or so it felt. She glanced each way, saw no cars, and finally picked a direction at random, and started heading left, still keeping to the shadows inside the tree line.

One foot in front of the other.

_Now would be a good time to find me, guys. Please._

One foot in front of the other.

_I hope you’re alright, Kenny._

One foot in front of the other.

_I’m so **** cold._

One foot in front of the other.

_At least I’m not in that box and trussed up like a pig. Or was it a chicken?_

One foot in front of the other.

_Couldn’t this have happened in July?_

One foot in front of the other.

_Keep moving. Just keep moving. They’ll find me soon._

One foot in front of the other.

_Warm cars. Warm clothes. Tea. Lots and lots of tea._

One foot in front of the other.

_Please be alright Kenny. I won’t forgive myself if you’re not._

One foot in front of the other.

A stumble and a heavy fall.

_Ow._

_Pick yourself up and keep moving. You can do this._

_It’s so cold._

One foot in front of the other.

_Another intersection. Now what? Can I hear traffic? How about another left._

One foot in front of the other.

_I hate this._ A few tears trickled down her cheeks, freezing in the cold. Her teeth chattered violently. _I’m so cold_.

One foot in front of the other.

_I’m an FBI agent. I refuse to die of hypothermia._

One foot in front of the other. Another stagger and heavy fall. It took longer for Kateri to drag herself back to her feet this time, but still she went on.

_Another intersection. Right this time. Maybe more cars that way, I think. Maybe. I hope I’m not imagining things._

One foot in front of the other.

_Please come find me._

One foot in front of the other.

_Please come find me._

One foot in front of the other.

_Another intersection. This looks like a bigger road. Maybe I should wait and watch for a few minutes. No, no, it’s too cold. Got to keep walking. Got to keep moving. Got to._

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

_Please come find me._

One foot in front of the other. Another stagger. Another fall. It took Kateri even longer to get to her feet this time, her knees and hands skinned and bleeding.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

_I must look like a sight_.

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

Finally, from far in the distance down the long, straight road, Kateri saw headlights.

_In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. I don’t know how much longer I can keep going_.

She staggered to the edge of the road and waited, wavering on her feet and practically vibrating she was shivering so hard.

The car screeched to a halt, illuminating Kateri in the headlights. She squinted and threw up one bloody hand to shield her eyes from the light that felt like icepicks stabbing through her skull.

A car door flew open. A woman’s voice, old and motherly, “Land sakes alive, what happened to you? Were you in a car accident? Do you need me to call 911?”

_Definitely not whoever hurt me. Got to take a chance anyway. Can’t keep going_. Now that she had stopped moving, Kateri was not sure if she could keep going any longer.

Kateri shook her head, “I’m an FBI agent. I need a hospital and a cellphone.”

Gentle hands on her arm, and an arm supporting her. The woman beside her was probably in her lower 50s, dark skin and a coil of neatly bound hair at the nape of her neck. “You’re the agent from the news.”

“I expect so,” Kateri replied through chattering teeth.

“Let’s get you inside, honey,” the woman began guiding her toward the car, “I’m Marina. I don’t have anything hot to share, but I’ve got heated seats and a good, working heater.”

“That sssoundsss lovvvely.”

To Kateri’s embarrassment, it took Marina’s help to get her into the car and get the seat-belt buckled. Without gloves, her hands had gone stiff and numb, even tucked into her pockets or beneath her armpits. Marina hurried around to the other side of the car, got in, and turned the heat up high.

The car stated moving again, and Kateri could hear the engine rev as Marina pressed down hard on the gas. “The nearest hospital is in Elizabethtown. That’s almost 30 miles north-east of here. Can you make it?”

Kateri nodded, “Yes. Nothin’ll make me drop dead.” Internally, she was swearing. _I was in Plattsburgh this morning. Whoever jumped me sure wanted to give the others a **** of a time finding me._

“That’s good, honey. Just hold on tight, and we’ll be there soon. My phone’s in the cupholder by your left hand. No password, so feel free to call whoever you need.”

It took Kateri three tries to grab the phone—the pain in her wrists didn’t help anything either—and she begin to pray she didn’t have frostbite or something. _I don’t think my fingers look funky._ Finally, she was able to grab the phone and not drop it. It took two tries to thumb it open. She dialed a familiar number with the help of the voice-activated AI thingy and held the phone up to her ear. Her shivering had increased, and her teeth were chattering harder. Skilled in outdoor survival techniques she was not, but Clinton had taught her enough, and she knew that shivering was good. Being so cold you stopped shivering was really, really bad.

The phone rang and rang and rang and rang, but finally a familiar voice picked up. “Skye.” Her partner’s voice was curt and distracted. There were voices in the background.

“Hey, boss,” her voice wavered badly, and she cursed herself for sounding like a scared kid, “Can you come get me, please?”

“Kateri??!! Where the **** are you?” His voice changed to somewhere between utterly relieved and dumbstruck. The noise in the background rose by an order of magnitude.

“About 30 miles sssssouth-west of Elizabethtown, ssssso I’m told. I gotttttt free, found help, and a lady’sssss driving me to the hossssspitttttal.” The background noise changed as if Clinton had put her on speakerphone.

“We’ll be on your way soon, kid. Just hold on. How badly are you hurt?” He asked.

“I’m *** cold. Rope burns. My head’s wonky, too. Is Kenny okay?”

“I’m fine, Kat, and you’d better be, too,” came an answering bellow. _Oh, thank God_.

More voices and doors slamming in the background. Then her partner said, “We should get to the hospital in Elizabethtown about the same time you do. We’ll let them know to expect you.”

“Thankssssss, bbbosssss.”

Kateri hung up the phone and returned it to the cup holder. Tucking her hands into her armpits, she tried to get some more warmth into them but then winced and returned her hands to her lap, when that position put pressure on her injured wrists.

Marina kept up a soothing flow of meaningless chatter all the way to the hospital. Focusing on her words helped the exhausted agent stay awake when, now safe and a tad warmer, all she wanted to do was sleep, despite the horrific ache that came with returning warmth to her hands and feet.

The team’s cars were already in the parking lot by the ED entrance when Marina pulled her sedan onto the grounds of the Elizabethtown Hospital. Kateri could see her team gathered together by the cars. She cataloged them all one by one in her mind, utter relief sweeping over her to see Kenny visibly uninjured with her own eyes.

Clinton moved with unusual speed and was by the car by the time Marina stopped and Kateri had fumbled her seatbelt open and made to get out. Her partner helped her out, half-supporting her, and then pulled her into a tight hug. Considering there was an audience, Kateri refrained from doing something undignified liking bursting into tears but returned the hug tightly, leaning more and more weight on him as the moments went by.

The others were suddenly there—their voices kinda distant—but the sudden change in position had been a little too much for Kateri, and the world was starting to spin a little.

“Let’s get you inside!” Her partner said, helping her toward the nurses with a gurney who had appeared from the direction of the ED.

Clinton helped her on to the gurney, and she was wheeled inside, where she was separated from her partner—which was somewhat nerve-wracking considering her horrible mess of a day—and then there was a succession of doctors, rooms, and tests, exhausting what little strength Kateri had left. Eventually, she was settled in a room, the doctor stating that she would probably be able to released later that day once her body temperature was at normal levels and they were sure the drugs were fully out of her system.

The blankets were warm; the lights were low; and the bed was soft and comforting after the hardness of the shed floor, and soon Kateri fell asleep, the steady sound of the heart monitor ringing in her ears. When she awoke several hours later, a female nurse with a nice smile had come in to check on her, and Kenny was sitting sprawled in a chair by her bed, his hands crossed over his stomach and his chin sunk all the way to his chest. He was snoring like a chainsaw, which usually drove Kateri crazy if they ended up in the same hotel room and he fell asleep first, but for one night she appreciated the familiar nose. The nurse gave her a thumbs up and readjusted the blankets and then departed as quietly as she had come, and Kateri soon drifted off again into a dreamless sleep.

Dim light was filtering in through the drawn curtains when she awoke for the second time. The clock on the wall said it was almost 8am. She was alone in the room, and Kateri took a minute to consider how she felt.

  * (1) She was finally warm again and no longer felt like she had fallen asleep in a walk-in freezer.
  * (2) Her hands and feet no longer felt like icy, achy, near useless lumps.



She finally glanced down at her wrists. They were wrapped neatly in gauze, and she could move her fingers without pain.

Nothing was blue, black, or otherwise multi-colored, except for the gauze wrapped around her palms and a couple of her fingers. Those had a tiny spot or two of blood.

  * (3) Her head no longer felt like she had a hangover, and her thoughts were no longer muddled.
  * (4) However, she still felt tired, despite the sleep, and somewhat weak. Her body had been through an ordeal, and those things were to be expected, she concluded.



_Progress. Definitely progress. Now, when can I get out of here?_

Kateri did not try to move yet but started to look around a little and quickly caught sight of her partner out in the hall, his back to the door, talking on his cellphone. A doctor entered before Clinton returned. After a quick examination, the doctor informed her that she would be released as soon as she had eaten breakfast and the discharge paperwork had been completed. Breakfast was plain, but with Clinton updating her on the case, she didn’t care much or taste much of what she was eating. Soon after she had finished eating, her partner went off to check on her release paperwork, just after Barnes arrived carrying a familiar duffle.

“I come bearing real clothes,” she announced as she entered the room.

“Hurray,” Kateri replied, sitting up. The only thing she despised more about hospitals than being in one was being in hospital clothes. They were scratchy and uncomfortable and not anywhere near warm enough and showed much too much skin in very unfortunate places.

“How are you feeling?” Barnes set the duffle down on the end of the bed, as soon as Kateri had pulled her feet away.

“Better. Less like I’m an icicle and spent the day trussed up like a chicken.”

“That’s good,” Barnes replied with a smile, “You gave us all quite a scare.” She paused and then continued, “There were some implications…”

“I gave myself a scare … and a panic attack. That was … not … a good day.” Barnes’ final words then sunk into Kateri’s mind, and she blanched, “That I was dead?” She asked.

“Or worse…”

Kateri swore colorfully in every language that she knew. _Dare I ask how Clinton reacted or Kenny, for that matter?_

Barnes snorted and stopped pulling out clothes long enough to quickly squeeze Kateri’s shoulder, “We had never been that glad to hear your voice before. And if you need to talk, Kat, we’re all happy to listen.”

“Thanks.”

Dressed in an extra flannel shirt and pair of cargo pants and ensconced within a fuzzy jacket, Kateri was finally released about 11am. Much to her discomfiture and embarrassment, she had to suffer the indignity of being wheeled outside to the waiting cars in a wheelchair. All of her team was waiting there, except for Barnes who had helped her dress and then had appointed herself wheelchair-pusher. There were hugs and backslaps all around, all her teammates relieved to see Kateri safe and in one piece and feeling well enough to complain about the wheelchair.

Her partner helped her get settled in their car, and then they were finally on their way home.

_After today I’m just glad to be able to go home._

_I wonder how long it will be before Clinton lets me out of his sight in the field again._

_I don’t think I’ll be getting re-partnered anytime soon._

_I should talk to Kenny soon, make sure he doesn’t beat himself up. Wasn’t his fault_.

With these and other thoughts circulating in her mind, Kateri eventually fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one missing scene to go. More missing scenes might be written and added later ... if my muse cooperates.


	4. Missing Scene #1: Kenny’s Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only Missing Scene I have written at the moment, but I have ideas for a couple more, and hopefully they will get written in the near-future. That or the ideas thereof will appear in "Flying Fridges" which incorporates the aftermath of this nearly disastrous case.
> 
> When I originally wrote this story, this scene appeared between where Kateri loses consciousness in the house and then wakes up trussed up like a chicken. As the story developed to be entirely from her POV, I decided that this scene did not fit well there and moved it out to a missing scene.

The house was unnervingly quiet, save for his occasional call of “FBI.” Clearing the house, or rather his half thereof, was familiar, and he completed the task with practiced movements. The house seemed deserted, and finally Kenny cleared the last room, called the all clear, and holstered his gun.

Keeping his head on a swivel—between the house and the creepy weather, Kenny felt on edge—he headed back towards the entrance way. He had thought he had heard his partner call the all clear, but the house was large, and there were enough halls and rooms to make it hard to hear. The entrance way was deserted, the door half-open as they had left it not long before.

Kenny waited for several minutes, but his partner did not appear. He frowned, tapped his foot semi-impatiently, and waited another minute. Finally, he bellowed, “Kat, you get lost or something?”

The silence was deafening, and his heart leapt into his throat. _What the *** is going on?_

Kenny redrew his gun and started re-clearing Kat’s end of the house. Every room was clear and deserted. There were no signs of his partner or of anyone else being in the house. There was no clue of where his partner was, no dropped belongings, no signs of a scuffle. It was if Kat had up and disappeared into thin air.

“Kat! KAT!! Call out!”

No matter the number of times he hollered for his partner or checked and rechecked the rooms and even rechecked outside and in the garage, there was no sign of his partner, no sign she had ever been with him. Though he was just slightly disturbed by her horror movie-esque disappearance, Kenny’s main emotion was anger, anger at himself for agreeing to split up, for not being there to watch her back and anger at whoever or whatever had caused her disappearance. There was no good reason for her to have just up and disappeared.

Finally, Kenny reluctantly admitted defeat, and fuming, anger simmering in his veins, he returned to car. Pulling out his phone, he called his boss.

“We’ve got a big problem,” Kenny said, trying to force his temper back under control.

From the background noises that suddenly dropped to a level at which one could have heard a pin drop, Kenny judged that the boss was probably in the bus and the call was probably on speaker-phone.

“What happened?” Was Jess’ immediate response.

“Kat. I lost her. We split up, and now I can’t find her.”


End file.
